Page 55 of Fear of Flames
“What if I say no? What if I say, let me out at the nearest stop and I’ll…”
“Do what?”
The emptiness in her chest opened to a chasmic void. “I can’t go home.” It wasn’t a question. “You’re saying that I would need to start over.”
“Witness protection is an option, but you can’t divulge the agency.” He reached over to her thigh and squeezed. “I’m sorry, Chell. I made that decision for you. I should have talked to you about this sooner.”
You think? She didn’t say the words aloud, but they were there.
Leaving her life.
Michelle thought through everything she’d miss. It boiled down to her father, but he was already gone. There were her friends and her writing. Could she still write? Those thoughts and more swam through her brain. Michelle was quiet for a few minutes. “Dad’s passion was saving children?”
“Oh.” Fletch’s voice became more animated. “He could rattle on about statistics for hours about missing children. Over 460,000 children go missing a year in the US. While the majority of those children are found safe, that still leaves hundreds who are never heard from again. When you broaden the statistics to adults, it’s much higher. Technically, an eighteen-year-old is classified as an adult. It’s not only in the US where children go missing. Consider war zones, migration, and weather devastation, people go missing and no one notices or has the means to report them.”
Would she be missed?
Michelle pushed that thought away and concentrated on her father. A grin slowly formed. “You’re right. He did talk about it. I think I used some of his stories in creating fiction. I loved to hear him tell stories about his time on the force. I was so proud of what he did.” She shrugged. “I don’t think I could do what Dad did, but if whoever is in power will allow me to stay, I’d like to try to help.”
“The first step is convincing Peterson.”
As they traveled, Michelle worked to settle her nerves. Her life was now in the hands of a person she didn’t know. And there was nothing she could do to change it.
The clock on the dashboard read one o’clock Friday morning when they entered Petroleum County in the nondescript black Ford truck Fletch had secured. The license plate was from a junkyard, and the truck was streaked with the salt and sand they used to keep the ice off the roads.
Chapter
Twenty-Six
It had been a long time since Michelle had depended upon another person. She couldn’t recall the last time she felt so vulnerable. Her writing paid her bills. She shopped for her own food and clothes. She even managed to enjoy a few extravagances such as monthly salon visits. Her life was comfortable and secure. The reality of how drastically everything changed hit her with the force of a sledgehammer as Fletch drove down a narrow dirt road and came to a guard shack.
The things he’d told her about the no-name agency sounded more like fiction than reality. Yet here she was in a truck as Fletch got out and walked to speak with the guard on duty. While she couldn’t hear their conversation, she was pretty sure it was about her. Finally, the guard acquiesced, and the gate opened.
“Problem?” she asked as Fletch got back inside the truck.
“Nothing that can’t be handled.”
She inhaled, unsure what to expect.
Beyond the guard shack, the truck’s headlights cut through the dark night. For the next five minutes, there wasn’t a light in sight, only the headlights cutting through the black night. The road wound between mountains leading into a cavern. Within was the first evidence of life. The settlement only had a few lights illuminating the complex. The structures loomed in the shadows of the higher elevations of land.
Michelle had never been on a military base. If she were to imagine one from books, movies, and TV shows, this complex would fit into that imagination. In the dark night, the buildings lacked color or differentiating features, giving the cluster an ominous uniform feel.
“It’s not much,” Fletch warned as they pulled up to what looked like a two-story apartment building. “I travel a lot.” He shrugged. “And I wasn’t expecting to bring anyone home with me when I left.”
Michelle grinned. Fletch’s usual self-assuredness was replaced by what she could only describe as self-deprecation. It was endearing. “Are you telling me your apartment might not be picked up?”
He pressed his lips together. “You won’t hurt my feelings if the star rating is less than the last motel.”
“It can’t be that bad.”
Outside the truck, Fletch opened the door to an apartment on the first floor and tentatively, Michelle entered. There was an odor of stuffiness that happens when a place has been closed for a long time. Fletch flipped the switches, bringing the interior into view. A small entry allowed them to go right into the kitchen, straight into the living room, or left to what she assumed were the bedrooms.
The counter between the kitchen and living room was covered with stuff. Michelle didn’t have a better description. There were books, papers, and even an empty milk jug. There were dishes in the sink, even though there was a dishwasher.
“This is…” She spun around. “You said you’ve never brought a woman here.”
Fletch was walking around, picking up blankets and pillows from the sofa. “You’re the first.”
